Angel of Death
by Twitch Hopeless-Savage
Summary: Bellatrix Black is an Eater of Death. She craves it, lives off it, breathes it. There is a reason she is one of the most feared of Voldermort's followers and this is why... rated M for images of violent sex.


Angel of Death 

"Pick a house at random. Do whatever you want. Make sure the mark is left somewhere prominent. It's time the muggles came to fear us as well."

"Yes, master." Bellatrix Lestrange kneeled onto the ground and lovingly kissed the hems of the Dark Lord's robes. "My will is yours."

Bellatrix looked up with lust into the thin, scaly face of her Lord. His spidery fingers wrapped over the top of her head and he muttered a blessing. She stood up and his thin, colourless lips touched against her forehead. Her skin froze in the spot, and when he pulled away a small blue mark in the shape of dying rose was left.

"Go now my Dark Angel. Descend among the mortals and purify my earth with all the rage and righteousness that is yours."

&

"So how was school today, darling?" Mrs. Kensington asked her daughter, passing the rolls to her husband. "Learn anything exciting?"

Her daughter, Lilac, stared across the table with contempt, her black lips turning up into an angry sneer. The candlelight shined on her sleek purple hair, making it look like a dancing waterfall. "I learned that Marcy Jones can take a whole cock in her mouth and not gag."

Mrs. Kensington dropped her fork in shock, splattering mashed potatoes and gravy all over the white line tablecloth. Lilac's older brother snorted in his cup of milk, while secretly wondering if what she'd said was true. Mr. Kensington simply bit into his buttered roll, used to his daughter's randomly nasty comments.

Lilac just smiled to herself. _Serves the bloody cow. Always bugging me… 'Did you have a nice day, Honey.' 'Would you like to go shopping with me, Flower?' 'How about a spoonful of sugar to gag yourself?' _She chortled, taking a sip of her cola mixed with the vodka she'd stolen from her father's study. It burned her throat slightly as it went down.

"Did I say something?" she asked innocently, smiling sweetly at her mother.

Tears were welling up in the woman's eyes. She just couldn't take it. She worked all day sewing dresses for ungrateful customers, came home and cooked dinner for an ungrateful family, and went to bed and just lay there as her ungrateful husband ground against her. Always thinking about what would have been different if she had married the Law Student. If she'd run the other way when her now husband showed up drunk to a mutual friends wedding. If she hadn't just gone to bed to drown the pain. If she'd used protection.

Her hands flew up to her face to try and hide the tears but she was sobbing so hard it didn't matter. The smirk fell off of her son's face and he glared harshly at his sister. Getting out of his chair he stood behind his mother and hugged her back, whispering that everything would be okay.

Lilac and her father just sat there thinking how pathetic how this scene was. Mr. Kensington couldn't wait for dinner to finish so he could lock himself in his study and drown his miseries with alcohol.

Just then the doorbell rang, taking everyone by surprise. Mr. Kensington nor Lilac showed any inclination to get it and Mrs. Kensington was still sobbing so Greg kissed his mother's cheek and went to answer the door.

Along the walls of the hall were pictures. Lilac and his mother running through the surf, laughing as the waves crashed against their feet. His father looking distant as ever sitting in a chair on an empty porch. Himself in the centre of the family portrait taken several months earlier looking alone amongst his family.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open, wondering who it could possibly be this late at night. A tall figure stood before him draped in a dark cloak, the hood pulled over the face.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying to get a better look at the stranger's face.

The head rose and a pair of gloved hands slipped out of the long billowing sleeves and clutched the edges of the hood. The fingers were long and slender.

"I believe you can," answered a velvety smooth voice. The hands pulled the hood back and a gorgeous women stood there staring at him. Her face was pale white and framed by a cascade of wild, black hair.

Her dark eyes looked him up and down in such a manner that caused him to puff out his chest and flex his arms. A smirk flitted across her porcelain face.

"Who is it?" his father yelled gruffly from the dining room.

"No one," the woman mouthed. Greg repeated her in a loud voice, almost as if his jaw was being moved by an invisible hand. She smiled at him approvingly and his groin began to tingle. "How about we go upstairs?" she suggested, closing the door softly behind her.

Greg found himself nodding vigorously. The women grinned and grabbed the front of his shirt and began to lead him up the stairs. "I'm going to bed early. I have homework to do," he shouted to his family, trying to keep his footing on the stairs. No one responded, no one probably cared.

The woman's hips swayed provocatively beneath the liquid fabric of her cloak. She stared at the pictures that continued from the foyer up the stairs through her steely eyes. From them she gathered that there was, besides the boy; a mother, father, and a daughter. Easy enough.

In the twisted, writhing imagination that stuck to her mind like a deadly tumour she could already see their bodies lined up on the floor. One. Two. Three. Four. Count them as they die.

At the top of the stairs she turned to face the boy and placed her full, black lips against his own trembling, pink ones. The women slipped a small golden ball from out beneath her tongue and ejaculated it into the boy's mouth. It slipped down his throat, shrinking to fit the oesophagus. He never noticed a thing. Inside the ball a small worm awoke and began to impatiently wiggle around, trying to make an escape.

"Which one is yours?" she asked, pulling away. Her eyes darted around at the closed doors running down the hall.

He continued to kiss the air for a brief second before coming to and registering the question in his mind, which had ceased to properly function after all the blood rushed to the lower half of his body. "The one at the end," he breathed, reaching to take hold of her waist.

She slapped his hand away. "Don't be naughty. Patience is a virtue. And I think you'll find I am well worth waiting for." Her tongue flicked out and rolled around sexually. "Come." She grabbed his hand and lead him down the hall, just as a jailer would lead a prisoner to the guillotine. Only the prisoner's death was quick and painless. Greg's was going to be anything but.

The women looked him up and down. He was practically panting and if given the chance would probably ravage her in front of his own grandmother. This one would last a while. And the women had every intention of bringing him to pleasure in as many ways as her fucked up mind could create. None of them pleasant, all of them violent. Oh yes, he would make an excellent toy.

&

A lava lamp bubbled placidly, casting its watery, blue light onto the posters of women dressed in bikinis splayed out so that everything hidden was showing anyway. In the corner a computer screen flickered, its screensaver of stripping girls repeating itself over and over again.

"Muggles," Bellatrix muttered, wiping the blood off a knife onto the bare skin of her abdomen. "And their sick perversions." She threw the clean knife up into the air and snapped her fingers, making it disappear instantly.

Straightening her crooked blouse, Bellatrix stood and stared up at her handy work. The boy, Greg she thought his name was, was pinned to the wall, like Christ was to the cross. On his chest was etched the Dark Mark, in pain staking detail, the eyes of the snake almost looked like they were staring into your soul.

His head hung limply, small groans periodically escaping his lips. Bellatrix had cauterised the cuts so there was no blood, so he was not in danger of bleeding to death. It was the worm's job to do that. It was now slowly chewing though Greg's innards. Make death as painful as you can, that way in the afterlife they will remember their killer and it will consume them, they'll never be able to peacefully enjoy eternity.

Bellatrix pulled out a tube of lipstick from the inside of her robes and applied a deep red lipstick onto her lips to take the place of the black that was now all over his skin.

"This lipstick is made from the venom of the Basilisk. It spices things up a bit." Bellatrix smirked, kneeling before him. She had put a spell on him so that he would remain potent for hours on end and she thought maybe he'd like a final blow-job before he died.

&

Greg stared through blurry eyes down at the bobbing head of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. Her lips burned the skin of his dick as they caressed it viciously. But he was far past even feeling the pain anymore.

&

Bellatrix sighed happily as the boy became unconscious from the pain. She stood on her tip-toes and placed a kiss right on his lips. The skin began to sizzle where the lipstick touched. "Was it good for you?" she whispered, her slender fingers tracing the dark mark on Greg's chest. "Cause it was for me. It was _so _good."

&

Lilac sat in her bed, music blasting into her ears. Her pale eyes were glued to the pages of the book in her hands. It was dedicated to the study of Satanism and black magic. As she read the spells in it she wished that magic was real. There were so many people she knew that needed to have their heads brutally severed, but they still remain alive. And even more that needed to have their dicks lopped off painfully.

She was just coming to the end of a particularly nasty spell that would turn a man's dick into water every time something touched it when she felt a presence watching her.

Closing the book she looked over at the door prepared to yell that she wanted to be left alone. When she saw the tall cloaked figure standing there the words became stone in her throat. It was a women, her breasts accentuated by the velvety, tight fabric of the cloak.

Lilac stared in awe. It was the Angel of Death… she was sure of it. Excitement pounded through her veins as she set the book on her bedside table and sat back in the bed, spreading her legs out.

The women glided across the black carpet, her eyes darting around at the darkness bareness of the room. They glittered with familiarity, like they were thinking back to times long gone.

She stopped and stared down at Lilac, smiling serenely. Silky gloves were quickly shorn away revealing long porcelain hands that glowed in the moonlight streaming in through the open window. "Hello, Lilac," whispered a smoky voice in the girl's head. "You're beautiful."

Their bodies melted together as the woman crawled over Lilac's sprawled body, both their hands slipping up into each other's shirt. Breast were cupped as their lips met hungrily. A moan escaped into the Angel's mouth as she pried Lilac's lips open with her soft tongue.

"You're mine," the voice crooned in Lilac's head as two fingers slipped inside her. Gasps of ecstasy filled the room as her body convulsed from the intense pleasure filling her up, taking a hold of her, reeling her into a place she never could have imagined. Everything was alive and blossoming before her very eyes.

Balling up her sheets in clasped fists, Lilac moaned, her back arching up towards the sky as the Angel's finger penetrated her deeper and deeper. Sweat poured out from everywhere, soaking her.

Her breath became ragged as she neared the finish, she could feel it in her bones. Everything in her body was focused on that single moment of pleasure. Almost… almost there… just a little deeper…

Then there was an explosion and she began to scream, trying not to faint from the intensity. She could feel bile rising up in her throat as her stomach twisted into knots, her head was pounding fast and hard. Staring at the ceiling nothing she saw made sense. It was just a single blur, like there was nothing in the world besides her.

The pressure of the Angel's body left her and she felt a rush of hot liquid on her inner thigh. Looking down Lilac screeched. Standing out prominently in a world a grey bleakness was a red stain, slowly creeping towards her feet. She looked up and saw the Angel smirking, tossing a knife up into the air where it disappeared. Her graceful fingers snapped together and a smaller knife appeared.

Lilac's body slowly weakened as her blood drained onto her sheets and bed, which was now soaked through. Drops of blood were beginning to fall onto the white carpet, like red flowers in a field of snow. Consciousness was quickly slipping away.

The last thing Lilac saw in life was the Angel of Death descending upon her, shrouded in darkness and mystery. How she loved that creature that had taken her life from her… how she hated it. Then she blacked out and knew no more.

&

Bellatrix dragged the knife across the last stretch of white, virgin skin, finishing her masterpiece. The Dark Mark leered up at her from the girl's back, its snake tongue slithering around Lilac's body and devouring a breast.

Just as she was getting rid of the knife the screaming started. They had found Greg's body.

Smirking Bellatrix walked out into the hall, pulling her white satin gloves over her bloodied fingers. Standing besides the boy's door was a small women with an ashen face. Tears rolled silently down her eyes as she steadied herself against the wall.

The women looked up through blood shot eyes as Bellatrix provocatively strutted over, bearing a cold vicious smile on her porcelain face.

She didn't even say anything as Bellatrix raised up her wand, still smiling. Bowing her head, the mother of the two children Bellatrix had slaughtered knelt to the floor, just as her pale faced husband came out of his study, drunk and confused.

A flash of green light filled his vision and when it cleared his wife was sprawled on the floor. Dead. Her face contorted into a mask of fear.

The women was gone. Vanished. Like she had flown away, and Angel of Death.

&

Bellatrix sat on the roof of the house and giggled to herself as the man's cries of anguish rose up into the night. To kill him would have been merciful. But this way he would spend the rest of his life in pain. Seeing the dead, mutilated bodies of his children and the image of his wife bowing to death like and old friend. It would haunt him to his dying day.

As his screams became more and more manic, Bellatrix's giggles became fits of hysteric laughter.

Standing up lithely she burned one last Dark Mark into the lawn before disappearing, just as the muggle law officials were pulling up.

Voldermort was rising into power, and everyone would learn to fear him and his Eaters of Death.


End file.
